


Nightmares

by stellarel



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, basically you have a nightmare and the Doctor helps and it's soft, disaster wlw feelings, the Doctor is telepathic and i'm here for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:40:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23563930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarel/pseuds/stellarel
Summary: You have a nightmare. The Doctor helps.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Reader, Thirteenth Doctor/You
Comments: 9
Kudos: 76





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, may i offer you some self-indulgent fanfiction about someone CARING ABOUT YOU and BEING THERE FOR YOU and LOVING YOU, in these trying times.  
> Did i write this after having a nightmare and feeling extra lonely TM? Maybe.  
> Did it help? Maybe.

You wake up disoriented, like always. Dancing on the line between awake and asleep for what feels like forever, and when you finally come to it, you're covered in cold sweat, shaking a little, and feeling absolutely terrible.

_God, you hated nightmares._

The lingering feeling is still there even now that you're awake, the dream - nightmare- still stuck on your head, crawling just under your skin. 

Breathe.

The familiar mechanical whirs and hums of the TARDIS feel a little bit louder than usual, and the ship had taken the liberty of turning on some of the lights in your room. That's good, probably. Better than total darkness.

You're safe.

You're in the TARDIS. 

You sit up, try to sort your out thoughts. _I need a distraction. I need to do something,_ you think, rubbing your eyes. Automatically reaching for your phone out of habit, thinking you could probably figure out something to do for a moment, or for the rest of the night, _or however long it'll take this time for my brain to stop feeling like it's on backwards._

You never get your hands on your phone, though, because there's a soft knock on the door. So quiet it's almost not there. You run a hand over your face and climb out of bed - life on the TARDIS, you never knew when something was important. 

The Doctor had been tinkering with something or the other, under the console, when the louder-than-usual and slightly distressed hum and the heavier glow of the lamps had alerted her that something was wrong. 

The TARDIS was telepathic- she could see the dreams of the people on board. Not that she watched them, often, she didn't really care, but when someone was having nightmares? She usually liked to tell the Doctor. Just because, usually, she could help. She was usually up anyways, her idiot thief, and the TARDIS knew that often when humans had nightmares, well, company helped. Especially if it was the company of someone as hopeful, kind, and understanding as the Doctor. 

The TARDIS thought she was doing you a favor, really. That, and it was also her favorite pastime watching you and the Timelord dance and stumble around each other. Two idiots in love who hadn't fully yet realized it and refused to do anything about it. 

The TARDIS did her best to try to help you two along, of course, but it wasn't exactly easy. The Doctor was an expert at hiding from her own emotions, ignoring them, and, well, sometimes she was just plain clueless. You, on the other hand, were human and as heart-achingly full of feelings as humans were, you were also notoriously bad at talking about them. Put these two together, and you get a lot of bottled-up emotions, a lot of unsaid things, and some quality mutual pining that was only so obvious if you happened to be a sentient telepathic time machine observing it all unfold. 

The Doctor had furrowed her brows, lifted up her goggles, and looked around the console room. "What is it, old girl?"

Another hum, a little lighter than last time. WVORP.

"Hmm. Do you think I should go check up on her?" She scrunches her face a little and looks up. 

The TARDIS hums, the lights flicker. Something that only the Doctor seemed to be able to understand, but often, that was enough. She puts down the tools she'd been holding, sighs a little, and looks up. The TARDIS lets out another, almost impatient sound, and the Doctor stands up. "Alright, alright. I hope you're right about this. I don't want to make her uncomfortable." She gives the ceiling a glare.

And so The Doctor finds herself standing behind your door, going through the last _'is this a good idea?'_ -checks in her head. Eventually, she knocks on the door. So softly that you won't hear it in case you've, by some miracle, fallen asleep again already, and quiet enough for you to ignore it if you want to.

You open the door, and find her standing there, with her hands in her pockets, looking a little uncomfortable. "Doctor?" you ask quietly, with your voice still a little rough from sleep. She looks like she had been doing some repairs - with the goggles on her forehead and some oil stains on her shirt, and her sleeves rolled up, jacket nowhere to be seen. 

"Are you okay?" She asks, straight to the point, not bothering with the small talk. She studies you, with her eyes all sharp and worried, and you chew on your lower lip a little. 

"I'm fine. I just had a nightmare." You look down, fiddling with the fabric of your sleeves a little. "But it's nothing to worry about. I'll be okay."

"Oh." Her shoulders seem to relax a little, and she looks like she does when she's thinking. "I'm sorry. I know nightmares can really throw you off, really get into your head sometimes." She tilts her head a little. "Do you want to...talk about it?" 

You take a breath, and step away from the doorway. "I think I just need to get out of my head, for now."

She gives a quiet, understanding hum as a response, and steps into the room. 

The room is filled with a soft glow, and still a little stuffy from sleep. The Doctor doesn't spend much time in the rooms her companions sleep in, she had especially made a point of letting you have something of your own, some personal space, somewhere quiet on this ship that was just for you. She takes in the room as she walks in - noticing the large, soft-looking bed, the personal belongings, clothes here and there, a few pictures, the books and the plants - _interesting, she never thought of growing plants inside the TARDIS._ She makes a mental note of this, and thinks she should try that herself, too. Maybe in the console room, where she wouldn't forget them so easily. That could be nice.

You sit on the bed, and pull your legs up. The Doctor is looking absentmindly around the room, not saying much, but her presence is enough to be comforting. You let out a small sigh. "I don't know what it is." You start quietly. "I don't know why I keep having these dreams". 

She turns to look at you, with her head slightly tilted. "Well, dreams are complicated. No-one really knows where they come from, really. Or, well -" She almost goes off on a tangent about how really it wasn't that big of a mystery, and she had a few theories, actually, and there's this one really good book on the topic she read, once, but then she looks over at you and decides against it. Tries to come up with something a little more comforting. 

"Some people say they're what your brain throws at you to prepare you for difficult things in real life." She gives you a small shrug and an apologetic smile. "Hence, nightmares. Makes you practice the bad scenarios your subconscious can come up with, so you'd know what to do if you'd ever have to deal with them in real life."   
Maybe she wasn't the best at saying comforting things, really. She never really knew what was the right thing to say, and it always ended up being half-guessing on her part and usually felt more than a little forced. But she wanted you to feel better, so she tried her best.

You looked at her with your head a little tilted and your eyes soft, looking like you didn't really mind that she took the 'explaining things' -route instead of the 'I'm sorry you're going through this' -route, and it made her hearts feel a little warm.

"Hmm. I guess that makes sense. Still sucks, though."

"Yeah, I know." She says quietly, looking around, not really knowing what to do with herself. Why was this new body so...awkward? Not that she'd really been that smooth before, that wasn't it, but this was on a whole new level. Why was she suddenly overly aware of her own body, feeling like she should be doing something, as if just existing wasn't enough?

It was starting to get on her nerves, this constant itching at the back of her head reminding her that you two were alone in a dark room with nothing to do but look at each other and talk. She didn't like it. Or maybe she did, she wasn't sure, but it was making her feel like she should be doing something, saying something, anything, instead of just standing there looking like a fool. So, she does what she does whenever she's nervous- she starts rambling.

"Did you know that if you've never done something, say, you've never been snowboarding, and then you try it, and you're rubbish at it, of course, because you've never done it before, but then you go home and play a videogame about snowboarding, and later you go out and try again, you'll actually be better at it? Because you've practiced in a video game? It's kind of like that, I suppose." 

"That's weird." You point out, now with a small smile.   
Talking with the Doctor definitely counts as a distraction. 

She turns to look at you with a small smile. "I mean, I suppose it would work a lot better if nightmares were more often about actual scenarios you might have to deal with in real life, but..." She trails off. 

After a small silence, you shift on the bed, and nod towards the vacant side of it, inviting her to join you. "Do you have dreams, Doctor?"

She seems to think it through, like she can't quite figure out if she should climb into bed next to you or not - on the other hand, it seems like a terrible idea, because it's _you_ , and the bedsheets will definitely smell like you and you'll be so _close_ she'll be able to feel you breathe and hear your heartbeat and lord knows what that would do to her, and laying next to you like that, in the same bed, her hearts might just get the wrong idea and start to crave _more_ of it. But on the other hand, it seems like the best idea ever, mostly for all the same reasons. 

She swallows, licks her lips a bit, and the TARDIS groans quietly. Just loud enough for The Doctor to get the point. 

Inside your own head, you're going through much of the same thought process - you want her next to you, yes, because it would be a little awkward if she just stood there, and because you don't want to be alone, and because it's her, and god, you just really need her to be here right now. But you're also terrified, because what if she doesn't want that. Because what if it'll make things weird. She's not exactly the most affectionate person, and what if she thinks it's just awkward and weird?

She sighs, and she gives in. She sits on the bed, toes off her boots and rests against the headboard, carefully.  
And suddenly your heart feels just that much lighter. 

"Yes." She finally answers, remembering you'd asked her a question. "I have dreams."

You turn to look at her, eyes curious, leaning back on the pillows. "What do you dream about, Doctor?"

She does her best to ignore how close you are, and the fact that the whole scenario makes it feel heart-achingly domestic, and she isn't used to this, isn't used to being so close to someone, and you're looking at her all weird and soft and gentle, and she can smell what she thinks is your shampoo, or body lotion, maybe, and the way you'd said _Doctor_ all soft and quiet had pulled at her heartstrings a little. Or a lot. More than she'd like to admit.

"Hmm." She looks up at the ceiling, trying to push those thoughts to the back of her head, where they belonged, locked up and safe, out of reach, where they aren't in danger of spilling over. 

"I think, mostly, I dream about beautiful things. About all of the beautiful things I've seen, about new things, things I used to know. I dream about the places I've been, the things I've done, and I dream about the stars." She talks quietly, letting herself feel safe in the relative darkness of the room. She wasn't used to talking about...personal things, but somehow, she didn't feel like she had to hide, with you. "Sometimes I dream about home, and about the people I've...known. And sometimes my dreams are just memories, I think, but ones that I've forgotten." Her voice is soft, and calm, and honest. You look up at her while she talks, her face illuminated by the soft golden glow of the lights, and there's that look in her eyes. The one she only gets when she's thinking about her past. 

"But, you know, mostly my dreams are just straight up bonkers." She switches gears quickly, not used to being so open and vulnerable. It didn't feel bad, necessarily, but she just wasn't used to it, and it felt strange and new and she wanted to get back to her comfort zone now, thanks. "You know, like sometimes they just don't make any sense. Like one moment you're on a taxi, or somebody else is, and you're only observing it, like you don't really even exist but somehow you're still seeing this all anyway, and then you're an entirely different person, and then Santa Claus is attacking you, trying to shoot you with a tuba, and somebody's getting married, and you have to get to the wedding, but it's not a real wedding, because of course there's some alien conspiracy you have to stop now, you know?" 

You smile at her rambling. "So like, that's just the standard day your subconscious is preparing you for?"

She lets out a breath that's almost a chuckle, and shifts a little closer. "Well, you never know." She turns to look at you, and regrets it almost instantly. Almost regrets. You're so close, and the soft light in the room made you look almost ethereal, and she hated how much she liked it. She shouldn't like it. She swallows. 

"What do you dream about?" She asks quietly, with her eyes soft. 

There's freedom in that question, you think; it's an invitation to talk about your nightmares, if you want to, or just tell her how silly your dreams sometimes are, too. 

"I guess I dream about beautiful things, too. The people i know, the places I've been, stuff that I've seen, you know. Regular stuff." You give her a small half-shrug. "And then sometimes i get nightmares." 

"Hmm." She doesn't really know what to say to that, and briefly, she misses those que cards Clara had made, a lifetime ago. But you seem satisfied with her non-answer, so she just nods a little and listens. Sometimes that seemed to be enough, just listening.

"Yeah. And they just...get stuck in my head sometimes. I can't shake them, not when I'm just alone with my thoughts."

She licks her lips a bit and looks like she's thinking. "Well, you're not alone now, I'm here. I'm always here if you need me." She smiles softly. And before she can stop herself, she continues, "And, you know, I could help you with that, if you want. The nightmares, I mean. I know a Timelord trick."

She's not sure if she should be doing this, offering you this, but god, she can't stand seeing you look so broken. So...scared and shaken and anxious, afraid of falling asleep again. She can see the fear still flickering around behind your eyes. 

Okay, so she knows she probably shouldn't be doing this, she definitely shouldn't. Watching someone else's dreams was incredibly intimate, and it could be very messy, and you were human, and she wasn't supposed to do this kind of stuff. But how could she resist? 

You furrow a brow at her, a little confused. "What kind of a Timelord trick?"

She looks at you, and the dim golden lights in the room reflect off of her eyes. Suddenly the room feels a lot smaller and it feels like she's a lot closer, and you're not sure if it's the TARDIS playing tricks on you or if it's just the way she's looking at you. 

"I could...guard your dreams, so to speak. Make sure they don't start going in the wrong direction." She talks quietly, softly.

"You can do that?" 

She's mentally banging her head against a wall now, because this is the part where she knows this isn't what she should be doing at all, she shouldn't have said that, she probably should just backtrack and make something up about how actually, no, that would be too dangerous for your little human head, she shouldn't do that, no. She's pretty sure she should just erase that whole memory of her saying that and slip out of your room, quietly, and pretend this never happened. 

"Pretty cool, right?" She says instead.

You chuckle at that, breathy and tired and light. "Yeah." You look down. "But seriously, you could...you would do that for me?"

"Of course I'd do that for you. I don't need as much sleep as you humans do, anyway, and you seem like you could do with a couple more hours." _And I don't want you to be afraid anymore. I want you to be okay._

The Doctor knows what it's like, having nightmares and not being able to stop thinking about them. Feeling like you're trapped inside of your own head. 

You look up, search her face for a moment. "Alright. But if my dreams get super weird, you can't blame me."

"No promises." She smirks a little, and you nudge her shoulder tiredly. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I won't judge. Besides, I doubt your brain could make up weirder stuff than mine, anyways." She smiles at you gently. _You're safe,_ she wants to say, _I'm here._

She thinks there isn't anything your subconscious might throw at her that would make her judge you. She's seen it all by now.

There is no way your nightmares were worse than hers. 

You shift a little, pull the blanket over yourself better. Settle into the silence. 

"Thank you, Doctor." You mutter quietly, shifting to get more comfortable.

She smiles over at you, eyes soft. 

"Anything, for you." She whispers, just a little too quiet for you to hear.


End file.
